I am adrift in emotion right now. I miss love. As I sit here, tears roll down my cheeks, hitting my pretty yellow table top and I just miss being someone’s home, and them being mine. I’m lonely tonight, on purpose, but still lonely.
It is what I asked for. I asked for a loneliness that was mine only. I’ll come out of it. I’m afraid to say the words, “I love you” and mean them. I’m afraid I’ll choose wrong again. Or he will. It’s a consuming fear that bases itself in my breath, so that if I even think about taking in the air to release those words, it suffocates me.
But gods I want monogamy again.
I want a man who looks at me and sees me. The complicated crazy fun mess I am. He kisses my cheek when I’m being OCD and tells me that I’m cute because The COLORS Must Be In Order. He tells me my eyes are beautiful, and watches me with intent. He finds me sitting in the tub with a glass of wine and washes my back as we talk about nothing. When his mind is stormy, I hold him to chase the clouds away. He bunches my curls in his fist and lets the ringlets grip his fingers. We find each other frustrating, delightful and fascinating. We laugh, we rage, we cry, we soothe. We are partners.
I have never had this. I thought I did. I pretended to, but the cake was a lie. So instead, I pull on my yoga pants, dry my tears, snuffle a bit and make some dinner. Maybe the Christmas Party will assuage the loneliness.
Sometimes though, I chase away a little of the pain with my phantom man. If only because a relief from the constant pain, even if made up, is relief of some sort.